The Temporary Home Job
by EFAW
Summary: This is her life. Moving from place to place, having no more than a temporary home. This is nothing more than she deserves. Oneshot.


**Summary: **This is her life. Moving from place to place, having no more than a temporary home. This is nothing more than she deserves. Oneshot.

**Warnings: **Parker-centric,pre-series through 2x01 (The Beantown Bailout Job), with reference to 2x13 (The Future Job).

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Leverage or Carrie Underwood or any of Carrie Underwood's songs. Not in the slightest.

**In Carrie Underwood's song "Temporary Home," the first verse talks about a young boy moving to a new foster home. As soon as I heard that, my mind immediately flashed to Parker, and I knew I had to write a fanfiction about it. This was the result.**

**I hope you enjoy.**

**OOOO**

"_This is my temporary home_

_It's not where I belong_

_Windows and rooms_

_That I'm passing through"_

_~'Temporary Home', Carrie Underwood_

**OOOO**

**The Temporary Home Job**

She's eight the first time they find her. She's been sleeping in the park with Bunny, curled up in the tunnel between the slide and the platforms to the monkey bars. Years later when she looked back on it, she would find out that some of the mothers grew concerned about the little blonde child that played in the playground but never seemed to go home. At the time, though, all she knows is that one minute she's sitting on the merry-go-round, idly kicking the wheel into motion and watching the other kids go home, and the next moment a woman and a man come up and take her to a car, where they take her someplace else with lots of other kids.

Since she doesn't have any clothes but the ones she's wearing, they give her a few outfits. The clothes don't quite fit, and she doesn't understand why she has them, but she doesn't say anything. She just clutches Bunny and stares at everyone around her with large, wide eyes.

That first night, she goes to her room and sits on the bed, staring out the window at the brilliant full moon while the three girls in the other bunks sleep. One of the girls murmurs in her sleep, and another cries, and the third has a raspy wheeze in her throat when she sleeps on her back. She's been so used to sleeping in the park and hearing the owls and the breeze in the trees that she can't get to sleep.

So she gets up. Even though the doors are locked during the night, she easily gets out, slipping on near-silent feet down the creaky stairs. Slipping outside, she props herself on the stoop and stares up at the sky, setting Bunny in her lap so he can have a good view too.

She wants to go back to the park. She wants to curl up in her tunnel and sleep where she's comfortable. But she's only eight years old, and even though she's gotten so much better at stealing food from the grocery stores nearby, sometimes she wants a good hot meal. Sometimes she wants to sleep in a real bed, not on the plastic in the park.

Maybe…maybe she could try this out? Just for a little while?

If she doesn't like it, she can always leave. She did it before.

Hugging Bunny, she continues to stare up at the moon, glowing down at her. "This is temporary," she whispers, hunching her back to the orphanage behind her. Even though she wants it, she doesn't think she deserves it. After what happened to her brother, she doesn't deserve anything so good as a _home_.

But oh, how she wants it.

"This is just our temporary home," she whispers again, hugging Bunny tight against her chest.

Temporary. She likes that.

It means that she doesn't have to live with it. She can leave whenever she wants to.

**XXXX**

Years pass and she ages and she moves, constantly moving from home to home. Some homes are good, some just…aren't. She doesn't talk about them.

The car pulls up in front of a new house. This one seems decent enough, with bright colors on the trim and windows boxes full of purple flowers that she doesn't recognize. It looks like a nice house, but she doesn't hold any hope. Even nice fronts can hold ugly, ugly secrets. Secrets that can never be spoken about again. Not to anyone.

Without a word, she climbs out of the car, Bunny tucked under one arm, and moves around back to get her bag.

The new people are at the door, waiting for her, and the woman leans over and hugs her. She doesn't respond, long since grown numb to hugs, and after a hesitant moment, the woman pulls back, the smile on her face a little dimmer. She just stares at the couple, eyes blank and unfeeling. Long ago, she hugged back, but she doesn't anymore. That way it doesn't hurt when she gets hit for doing something bad, and it really doesn't hurt when she has to leave.

The man pulls the social worker aside to talk about her, and the woman takes her up to her room. She's only mildly impressed by the spacious room with its frou frou frills and pink and white décor. All that's missing is a unicorn.

As soon as the woman leaves her to her own devices, she walks to the window, throws it open, and leans out. For the first time since she got in the car this morning, a smile crosses her face. There's no screen, and the window opens onto the roof of the porch, which is in easy climbing distance of the main roof. The smile plays across her lips as she pulls back into the room and tosses her bag on the bed.

She debates unpacking, then decides against it. She's rarely anywhere long enough to make unpacking worthwhile.

Hugging Bunny, she descends the staircase, and when she reaches the bottom, the smile is gone, tucked inside her secret place.

Later that night, when the couple is asleep, she pulls the window open and quietly climbs onto the roof. With a nimble grace honed from years of similar roof-top escapades, she scrambles upward until she's next to the chimney. Settling Bunny on her lap, she leans against the cool brick and closes her eyes, letting the cool breeze wash over her.

"This is just a temporary home," she murmurs to Bunny, letting her eyes open to slits to match the crescent slash in the sky. "We can leave any time.

This is part of her punishment. Moving from home to home, suffering the bruises and the scars in the bad homes and feeling the longing in her heart in the good ones. She doesn't deserve something warm and comforting like this. No matter how much she wants it, she doesn't deserve it, and she knows she'll never get it. This is just one more stop of many on the long train of her life.

She'll never have anything more than something temporary.

It's nothing more than she deserves.

Staring up at the moon, she sighs and hugs Bunny a little tighter.

**XXXX**

One day, she leaves. She just packs up Bunny and a few changes of clothes, and she leaves. She may or may not leave before her eighteenth birthday, but she doesn't know. She forgot her birthday a long time ago. She may or may not leave with several expensive pieces of jewelry and a nice watch owned by her current foster parents.

She may or may not feel guilty about her thieving.

After a few years, she finds her niche. She starts calling herself Parker, which may or may not have a connection to her past (and a little bright-eyed boy learning to ride on his brand-new bicycle). She travels the world, and she finds that she loves it. She's good at stealing, and she loves doing it. She acquires the gadgets, the toys, the ziplines and the harnesses and everything that goes along with it. She passes from city to city like a ghost in the night, never staying any longer than she has to.

Each residence is something temporary. A hotel to call a home base while she plans, executes, and escapes.

Then, in New York, she almost gets caught. It's been years since anyone has even seen her, much less almost catches her. She's good at what she does. He's almost better.

But she escapes, and she imprints his face in her mind so that, if she ever meets him again, she'll know so she can escape again.

She doesn't plan to get caught. _Ever_.

It's her punishment to keep moving, forever and ever and ever.

**XXXX**

She does meet that man again, but not in the way she expects. She's hired to work with him, work _under _him, and she balks, because she doesn't work with other people. She doesn't connect with other people, and she doesn't like other people interfering with her plans. But she stays quiet and agrees, because the pay is good and the thrill of this job sounds like it'll be fun.

He's not how she remembers. When he chased her, he was vibrant and full of energy and determination. She had to spend nearly two hours losing him, because he was faster than he looked, and he had a sharp mind that seemed to read her mind so he knew exactly where she would be headed next.

Now, he's just a shell full of alcohol. She knows the story, of course. Everyone in their world knows the story. She just doesn't understand it. She doesn't understand a family so in love with each other that one death could turn a man from what she knew to what she sees. The Nathan Ford she remembers doesn't exist anymore.

Except he does. Somewhere, under the alcohol and the grief, lurks the brilliant mind-reader she remembers, and even as everything spins out of control, she grins. She's expected this to be fun. Even with nearly getting blown up and losing that lovely, large payout, this is going to be fun.

She's going to enjoy this.

**XXXX**

It's the biggest payout she's ever had. She puts it in a safe place.

Then she keeps moving.

After all these years, she's not going to sit down and retire. Not even if she had all the money in the world.

She pretends like she doesn't miss whatever synergy they had as a group. They were all a bunch of misfits, but they worked together.

But it was like Eliot said.

_One show only. No encores._

**XXXX**

One phone call in Monaco changes everything. She isn't sure why she goes to Los Angeles. The thought of being in one place for too long, of being tied to one team for too long, makes her wanderlust itch to be on the move again. But the last case had been amazingly fun, and she'd reaped so much more than she'd expected, and maybe this case will be the same. So she goes.

The Leverage offices surprise her, and, if she's going to be honest with herself, scare her a bit. This is too much already. Hardison has an alias made up and everything, and the bonds are closing tighter around her. She looks over the profile with nervous eyes, and then she announces, "I won the sack races at last year's Fourth of July picnic!" There's nothing especially exciting about that, except that she's never been in a sack race, never been to a Fourth of July picnic, and the thought is so…so _homey_ that she doesn't know what to do with it.

This is already more than she deserves. This is just another temporary home, and in a few weeks they'll ask her to leave because they can't work with her. Or she'll disappear in the middle of the night, leaving behind an empty office and no trace she was ever there. No matter how great the last case had been, there's nothing to hope for.

But she's already here, so she might as well finish out the case.

**XXXX**

She ends up buying a plant and hanging it up in her office.

**XXXX**

The cases tick by, and she finds herself growing more and more comfortable in this place. They move around enough that she doesn't feel _too_ tied down, and if she ever _really_ gets nervous, she'll grab Bunny and climb up on the roof, letting the wind wash over her face and arms and staring up at the ever-present moon.

Even though it's more than she deserves, she likes it here. She thinks she wants to stay. If she can.

Then Sophie messes up. Or maybe Sterling is just that good.

And everything comes crashing down.

**XXXX**

She knows they need to scatter. She _knows_ that. They'd all separated in the park, and this would be the last time they got together for months. Their jobs are to keep out of the radar and stay low so Sterling wouldn't latch onto them and take them down, one by one.

But she can't help it. Even though she knows better, she goes downtown and stands at the edge of the crowd, looking up at their former offices.

The whole block has been cordoned off, and most of the people in the crowd probably worked in the other levels of the building. She maybe feels a little bad about that. Or rather, she knows she _should_ probably feel bad about that. A little bit. But she kind of sort of…doesn't. Not really. She doesn't know how.

Knowing that time is of the essence, and that getting out of here before anyone notices ---she suspects that some of those cops keeping people back are actually IYS men in disguise--- she turns to disappear into the crowd. She isn't even really sure why she came, just that she did and now she has to disappear again. As she does, her shoulder brushes against another person, and they both mutter awkward apologies. Then they stare at each other.

"Parker? What are ya doing here?" Eliot sounds as surprised as she feels, and, in a sudden attack of paranoia, she glances around, making sure no one has noticed her talking to Eliot. They'd just split up a little while ago, and she's almost certain this whole area is crawling with Sterling's bad, bad men. She can take care of herself, that was why she took the risk in coming here, but she doesn't know what to do with Eliot here too.

Not that Eliot can't take care of himself too. But they'd spent so much time watching each other's backs that now she isn't quite sure how to turn it off.

"Parker, you okay?" A touch on her hand makes her jump, whirling around to face Eliot's slightly concerned expression. Eliot probably worries the most about everybody on the team, even if he doesn't show it often. And right now he's worried about her.

Taking a deep breath, she drags down the paranoia and gives him an awkward, slightly-dusty smile. "I'm fine, Eliot. What are you doing here? Do you need something?" Before he can answer, she looks over at the cops guarding the perimeter and the burnt-out shell of their offices. "It's probably all burnt up by now, but I could get around the guards no problem and get it for you. Wouldn't be any trouble at all---"

"Parker." He cuts her off, but he does it gently, not snapping at her to stop talking like some of the others might have. Blinking, she looks over at him, and he shakes his head, his long hair waving around his face. "Parker, I'm not here to get something."

"Then what are you here…for…?" She pauses, realization coming even as she asks the question, and from her mouth falls a quiet, "Oh."

It isn't often that she understands the subtle, unspoken cues that people sometimes let off, but right now, she gets it.

"_Oh_."

He lets her arm go, then, just quietly releases her, and together, side by side, they look up at the roof and the burned walls and the shards of glass still littering the sidewalk. She doesn't know what the feeling is in her stomach, but she doesn't like it, and as she stares up at the remains of their offices, she wishes it would go away.

And then a hand touches her shoulder, and she jumps a little bit, even though she knows it's only Eliot. He's looking at her with that concerned face again, and she swallows, looking blandly back at him. "What?"

"Parker, you're…"

"I'm what?"

He just gestures helplessly at her face, and she frowns, reaching up with one hand. Her frown deepens when she feels something cool and wet on her cheek. Curious, she pulls her hand away and studies the drop of liquid, trembling on the tip of her finger. With Eliot watching her, she sticks her tongue out and lets the drop fall into her mouth. The salty tastes is what it takes to realize it's a tear. Not rain, but a tear.

She's _crying._

Eliot's hand is back on her shoulder, and there's a look on his face that's different from his concerned one. This one is his understanding, calmly-listening look. Like he's waiting for her to open up and he'll play psychologist when she does. Only she doesn't know what's wrong.

Taking a breath, she tries to think about this as another job. This…this _thing_ inside of her is just another building she has to get in to, with its own security and access points, and she needs to work out what's going on and how to get inside. Eliot stands beside her, watching her with a blank face and quiet eyes. He's waiting, and he'll keep waiting until she's ready to start talking or she leaves. He won't force anything by asking a bunch of questions. That's not his way.

So she takes a breath and tries to figure it out.

Why did she come here in the first place? Why hadn't she walked away when they split up, like she normally did? It's always been so easy for her to just up and walk away, but this time she came back here, back to their offices. She's never, _never_ had a problem leaving her temporary homes before. Once the job was done, she'd up and go. So why…?

Ah. There it is.

Those were all temporary homes. But this one is…this one _was_…something else.

"I bought a plant," she says, and her voice is small and trembling a little. Eliot's hand on her shoulder is reassuring.

"I bought a _plant_," she repeats, staring up at the blasted out window of her office. Imagining the blackened leaves of her plant. She didn't know what it was for, didn't know what it _did_, but she'd bought it because Hardison had suggested she should, and she's watered it every day except when she forgot or they were on long jobs. There was no special meaning to the plant, but it was something she'd done. She's bought something because she expected to come back to it every day. She'd never done that before.

All those other places, all those other rest stops during jobs, they were temporary homes. Just places she was passing through. Not even her safe houses are permanent. They're simply places she can go and relax without worrying about being found.

But this was something different.

And now it's gone.

It's not just about the plant. It's about Alice White and her friend from jury duty, and about all the times she sat around the table with them and watched Hardison's briefings, and about how worried they all got when Nate came in with his sunglasses on or pulled out another bottle. It's about everything that happened up there.

It about the feeling she got, being in those offices, surrounded by these people.

But all she can focus on is the plant.

"I _bought_ a _plant_," she says once more, trying to get her feelings across and certain that she's failing miserably. But when she looks over at Eliot, he's got his understanding face on, and he nods, following her gaze up to the burnt out offices.

"I know, Parker. I know."

And maybe he does. Maybe he understands more than any of the others. Hardison had his Nana, and his work is so remote that he probably never had to worry about losing his home before. He probably has a basement somewhere full of super-computer stuff and movies. Sophie has probably had a home for each of her names, and a life that goes with it, and everything that accompanies that life, even if it's all fake. And Parker's not even going to go into Nate.

But Eliot is like her. They both do the job and move on, because there's nothing holding them back. They're the same, inside, even if they do such very different things.

But these offices were something else. These offices were _home_. Not a temporary home, not just a place to pass through, but someplace to stay.

And now they're gone.

That's why he's here. To mourn for something he thought he had in his hands that's gone now.

That's why she's here too.

Maybe this is what she deserves. Maybe living in such a homey, comfortable surrounding was a mistake, and all of this happened to make her realize that she doesn't deserve anything like this. She doesn't deserve to be happy. And she thinks, over this past year, that maybe she was, occasionally, a little bit happy.

It was more than she deserved, but she misses it anyway. It _hurts_.

"I bought a plant," she whispers, her voice tightening, but she forces the tears down. She's not going to cry. She gave up crying a long time ago, and not even the loss of these offices is going to change that.

Eliot's hand is still on her shoulder, and he squeezes it softly. Ever so softly.

"I know."

**XXXX**

Six months later, when she gets Sophie's call, she doesn't think anything of it. She just climbs on a plane to Boston and goes, because she's been missing something and she isn't sure what. Something that not even the Hope Diamond could fix.

And then she gets to the lobby and sees the others, standing there staring at each other, and she grins.

This is more than she deserves. This may be yet another temporary home on her list of many.

She needs to go find a plant shop later today.

**OOOO**

**As I mentioned above, the song reminded me instantly of Parker and I started writing this fanfiction. Then there was the shocking revelation about Parker's brother in season two's The Future Job, so I tried to incorporate that in here and her feelings about that. I had a bit of a tough time getting into Parker's head, but the muses were nagging at me, so I hope I got her across well. Let me know what you thoughts about it, please! **

**~Until next time!**


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